Writing the mystery

The mystery from the Muse

the Muse from my heart

my heart holds this moment

precious and wild

wild like Mother Nature

the teet that fed

you its golden milk

that sacred substance

some might call ambrosia

the nectar of the gods

the god in everything we breathe

and smell

the touch of a leaf of sage

both soft and slightly rough

on my fingers when I rub it backwards

backwards I feel I am

walking in footsteps of the great unknown

unknown each day in its small

dewdrop essence of beauty and chaos

chaos in the morning teacups and crumbs

the crumbs I pick up five times

each day, after every meal

meals I prepare for every being

In my house husband child cat dog

the dog is a puppy

the puppy is a baby

the baby is contending attention

with the four year old

attention is what I cant spare

spare time that long forgotten mystery

mystery lying underneath each glance

the constant glance of supervision of the whole

the whole story gets told through its tiny specs

a spec of sand from the cosmos

tells about you and me today

today is the day I write

writing is my love

love is everything

everything contains mystery